The Jitters
by Natmonkey
Summary: The young lady who delivers mail to Vigil's Keep gets so, so nervous around the illustrious Warden-Commander and her Wardens. Anders resolves to help her overcome her jitters, in a quite peculiar manner.


_This story used to be up in another account way back, but I'm saying fuck it and uploading it here. The collaboration really isn't working out, nor do I really care for it anymore. I wrote it myself; the pairing was someone else's idea.  
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><p>"Do you have any mail for me?" the Commander asks amiably.<p>

Nevertheless, the private the question was directed at, is obviously startled. "B-blimey! Hello, Commander of the Grey." Her wide brown eyes grow even wider. She fidgets nervously. "Just give me a moment..." Hands shaking, she begins rummaging through a bag at her feet.

Anders smiles thoughtfully. The soldier is very pretty, and her twitchy behaviour in front of the illustrious Warden-Commander irresistibly adorable. While the Commander walks off with the letters, Oghren and Velanna trailing behind her, he lingers near the nervous private. Casually he sidles up to her. "Why does our Commander intimidate you so?"

"Eep!" The girl jumps in fright. "Well, to be perfectly honest, ser mage..." She chuckles awkwardly. "As you can see, you all do." Her face pulls into a funny expression when her nervous habit kicks in. Chewing on the inside of her cheek.

Anders raises an amused eyebrow. "Are you saying I'm scary?"

"Oh no, ser, not at all!" she blurts out. "It's just... You Grey Wardens are an impressive lot, you know? Defeating the Blight, ending the war. Killing those terrible darkspawn." Her cheeks colour pink as she stealthily studies the mage's face. He is quite handsome, and rather broad too. She's always heard mages are more prone to be thin and weak. Or overweight and weak. Not this one though. He seems to be in great shape.

"Nothing to be intimidated about. We're just normal men and women, I assure you." Then the taint swimming through his veins comes to mind, and he grins wryly. "Mostly." With a kind smile, he lays his arm around the young woman's shoulders. "Now, why don't I just show you around, and you can see for yourself there's nothing to be intimidated about."

She freezes and blushes even more furiously, being pressed so close to a man's body. "I... er, of course. I would like that, ser." The time for mail delivery has already passed, and who is she to deny a kind suggestion from a handsome man?

"So what's your name?" Anders asks as he guides her into the main building of Vigil's Keep.

"I-it's Ashleigh, Warden." Still biting on the inside of her cheek, she looks around nervously. This place seems even bigger than it looks from the outside. From the corner of her eye, she peeks at her companion. He is getting more and more attractive by the minute.

He smiles. "Lovely name. I'm Anders. All right? Not ser, not Warden, just Anders."

"Yes, se... I mean, Anders." She has to restrain herself from sighing in relief when his arm leaves her. The first room he's guided her into is large and luxurious, book cases lining the walls, an enormous pyre burning right smack dab in the middle of the place. The ceiling is supported with massive wooden beams and pillars. At the far end is a throne, on which the Commander is seated. Or well, seated. One leg slung over an armrest, the woman is half lying in her throne while reading her letters.

"Commander." The mage brings his companion before her. "This is Ashleigh."

The Commander looks up. "Oh, hey Anders. Look, I got a letter from..." Absently she shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I tend to forget my manners. Nice to meet you, Ashleigh. It hadn't even occurred to me to ask your name. Forgive me."

The soldier is slightly confused at the rueful look the high-ranking Grey Warden sends her. "Oh, n-no, it is no problem, Commander. I merely bring you your mail."

"Merely? Mail is very important." Chuckling to herself, the Commander rises from her seat. "It's good to know your name. Now we can stop referring to you as Mail Girl." Ashleigh notices for the very first time that the person she so looks up to, the Hero of Ferelden herself, stands a full head shorter than she. The women shake hands, with the Warden introducing herself by name. "Are you giving her a tour of the place, Anders?"

"I certainly am. Care to join us?" He grins unconsciously at the prospect of having a girl on each side, his arms wrapped around their shoulders.

Recognizing the expression on his face, his commanding officer laughs. "No, thanks. I need to write a reply to my letter. It was nice meeting you, Ashleigh." And so the Commander returns to her letters, draping herself across her throne once more. She waves casually when the mage and the private walk away.

"That wasn't so terrible, was it?" Reassuringly he pats the young woman on her back.

"No, not at all." Ashleigh smiles sweetly. "She seems nice. And so normal too."

The mage snickers under his breath. "Oh, trust me, she is anything but normal. But she's not stuck up at all." He pushes open a door. "All right, next stop: the kitchen."

They arrive just in time to see Sigrun do a victory dance. "Bow to the queen of Diamondback!" she shouts triumphantly, throwing around the cards she has in her hand.

"All right, all right." With a heavy sigh, Oghren gets off his chair and prostrates himself before his fellow dwarf. "All hail Queen Sigrun," he mumbles, obviously full of reluctance.

The self-proclaimed queen turns and offers a broad smile to the visitors. "Hi, Anders! Who'd you bring? Oh, you're the one who brings us mail, aren't you?" She grabs the flabbergasted soldier's hand and enthusiastically pumps it up and down. "I'm Sigrun. Would you like to play Diamondback with us? Just so you know: I always win."

Oghren raises his face off the kitchen floor. "Hey. Name's Oghren the Magnificent, one of the finest warriors in all of Orz..."

"Yeah, right," Sigrun cuts him off. "Believe me, he's not so magnificent."

"You just say that because you haven't given me the chance to prove myself." Wiggling his eyebrows, he shoots the dwarven girl a lustful look. In response, she shivers as if an eel is squirming down her back.

Anders groans. "All right you guys, enough fooling around. I'm just giving Ashleigh here the grand tour of Vigil's Keep."

"Hi." Ashleigh shyly raises her hand in greeting. "Nice to meet you all."

Noticing Oghren's eyes moving to the girl's chest, the mage quickly spins her around. "Let's just continue the tour, shall we?"

The next half hour the nervous soldier's senses are assaulted with new impressions, gradually reducing her nerves. Vigil's Keep is an immense fortress, filled with many rooms and chambers. She meets an unfriendly elven woman, whose calculating gaze sends cold shivers down her spine. Velanna. If they were to never meet again, Ashleigh certainly won't mind. Nathaniel is an entirely different case. Very handsome and not unkind. Sadly he is too busy making poisons to pay much attention to her. The one they call Justice creeps her out just a little. He seems nice enough, but he looks so unhealthy. Almost as if he were decaying. She shudders. Creepy.

With a dreamy sigh, the soldier steals a glance at Anders' backside as he pours them some glasses of wine. She is relaxed enough to sit on his bed and be alone in his bedroom with him, albeit only barely. He's gone through all the trouble of assuaging her jitters vis-à-vis the Grey Wardens, but her heart is still beating wildly. Maybe that is because she's so madly attracted to him. With a few whispered words of thanks she accepts her glass. "Uhm, nice room you have."

"Thanks." The mage settles himself beside her. "I didn't decorate it myself though; it was this way when I moved in."

"So you didn't install these shackles here?" Her curiosity gets the better of her. Giving them a funny look, Ashleigh inspects the bonds with her fingers. "The inside is lined with fabric." Silk, from the feel of it. After a few more draughts of the wine, heat begins rushing through her veins. Swiftly she drains her glass, licking her lips in relish.

Anders grins at several fond memories. He hasn't installed those shackles himself, but they have seen their use. Plenty of it too. Fun days. "No, I didn't," he finally replies.

"You know..." For some reason, the soldier is feeling awfully flushed. Dizzy. Excited. She giggles and sets down her glass on the nightstand. "I've always wondered what it would be like to be... dominated." So hot. She plucks at her armour, pulling off her gloves and working the buckles until she sits on the bed in her white linen tunic. A breast band is absent; whenever possible, Ashleigh goes without one, and this is just one of those days.

"I can help." Her barely veiled invitation sets his blood on fire. Anders crawls over her like a wild animal, a low growl issuing forth from deep within his throat. She playfully shuffles out of his reach, giggling all the while, until her back is pressed against the headboard. Trapped. "I'll show you exactly how it feels to be dominated," he whispers heatedly into her ear.

The hoarseness that has crept into her companion's voice gives the girl goose bumps. Sighing happily, she makes to wrap her arms around his neck, but finds that she can't. She's already been shackled, arms suspended well above her head. "You sure work fast."

Anders doesn't even reply to that. He is in control, so he can do exactly as he pleases. And talking is far from his mind right now. Licking his lips, he hungrily gazes down on her. Her large brown eyes are heavy-lidded, a feverish glint sparked within them. Sweat has begun beading on her forehead. Her high cheekbones are adorned with a crimson blush that would put the prettiest of roses to shame. Excited sighs are pouring from between her parted lips. Her bosom rises and falls with her quickened breathing, nipples proudly standing at attention. The honey-infused wine, steeped with aphrodisiacal herbs, has not missed its mark. From the waist down, she is still encased in her scale mail and heavy boots. The mage immediately sets to work to correct this unpleasant situation.

One boot lands in the corner, the other ends up on the desk, her trousers casually tossed away too. So she is left in only her shirt and knickers. However, all is not yet complete. In one rapid motion, he rips her tunic open down the middle. "Hey, I was still going to wear that!" his victim squawks indignantly.

He promptly deals a stinging slap to her cheek. "_Quiet_." How he loves playing this part, dominating a meek partner who wishes nothing more than to be submitted to his every whim. He won't hurt her. Not _too_ much, anyway.

"S-sorry." Eyes averted demurely, she hangs her head. If this is what he wants, she will gladly play along. Because Maker knows she is _aching_ to be at his mercy. "Forgive me, ser."

"Ah, you learn quickly." Gently his fingers caress the red spot on her cheek. "Smart girl." His hand glides down her jaw line, her throat, to slip under her torn shirt. His thumb flicking along her nipple elicits a moan. Her flesh is soft, smooth and firm to the touch. "Very nice," he coos approvingly, cupping her breasts. The vigorous massage he applies to them makes the young woman wriggle and sigh in delight. Unconsciously she moans out his name. "What did you just call me?"

The dangerous tone of his voice causes Ashleigh to flinch. "F-forgive me, ser. Your touch is so amazing, I forgot myself."

"Smooth-talking little wench." He is appeased, from that wicked smile on his face. "But you will have to make up for that mistake." Or not. Stepping off the bed, he positions himself beside the headboard.

The private blushes more furiously as she catches sight of his obvious arousal. Robes tend to be as revealing as they are decent. A few adjustments on his part, and the blush extends all the way down her neck. The girl is suffering from a serious case of hero worship and she eagerly takes in the appearance of his exposed erection. He is nice and big, just the way she likes it. Had she been free, she'd have jumped on it like a kitten on milk.

"Open wide," Anders sings, tapping his cock against her lips. Ashleigh obediently does as she is told and receives the tip in her mouth. Reflexively she licks the opening; her reward is a taste of salty liquid and an approving groan from her tormentor. "Now start sucking and don't stop until I tell you to." He abruptly grabs her short flaxen locks with both hands, shoving himself in as far as is possible without being overly cruel.

The soldier makes a surprised noise, but quickly recovers. Bobbing her head up and down, she eagerly works her mouth along his shaft and wraps her tongue around the sensitive head. His hands, painfully tangled into her hair, direct her speed and depth. Just as she is beginning to develop a severe crick in her neck, liberation is at hand.

Anders moans under her ministrations; her mouth is hot, moist and knows what it's doing. The closer his climax approaches, the more his control slips. His hands grip her hair tighter, involuntarily his hips jerk. Eventually the sensations become so strong, he finally loses it. He keeps her head in place and thrusts into her mouth, finishing the job himself. Every thrust is deep, too deep; Ashleigh gags, yet not for long. The mage's body stills completely and with a roar he lets loose. Long strands of cum are shot into the girl's mouth. They are almost as sweet as the wine she's tasted, so she keenly drinks it in. He spends so copiously however, that she can't keep up and small trickles flow from the corners of her mouth and drip down her chin.

"Well done." Affectionately Anders ruffles her now completely messed up hair, free from the short ponytail she normally wears it in. "You've made up for your mistake." Slowly he pulls his cock from her mouth and conceals it again.

"Tha-thank you, ser," Ashleigh stutters, blushing profusely. Giving head isn't something she is exactly used to, and it shocks her a little that she's enjoyed it so much. The things one can learn shackled to an almost perfect stranger's bed.

The mage chuckles in amusement at her furious blushes. Without another word he pulls up her torn shirt until it's bunched around her wrists, hiding the shackles from sight. Her form is one to be thoroughly admired. Even though Ashleigh is quite muscular (she is a soldier after all), she has retained her womanly curves. Her breasts are perfectly round, tipped with rosy peaks, and far too large for Anders to fully contain in his hands. A small waist, slightly defined abdominal muscles, rounded hips. Simple knickers that cover a gently curving mound. Endless legs with just the right amount of visible strength in them. Her slightly tan skin, the colour of tea with plenty of cream in it, is gleaming with sweat. He smirks at the streams of his seed on her chin. Such a perfect little whore. A little whore he has great plans for.

Hanging her head in feigned shyness, the young woman is inwardly seething with arousal and curiosity. Whatever is he going to do now? She arches her back and squeals involuntarily from a tickling sensation between her breasts. Teasingly Anders taps the tip of her nose with a grey feather, a wide grin on his face; immediately her curiosity is satisfied. An uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of her stomach. Ashleigh hates tickling. Hates it thoroughly. And with her hands trapped like this, she can do nothing to fight it off. The tip of the feather lightly touching the soft hollow at the base of her throat makes her gasp.

"Ticklish, are you?" The reflexive kicking of her legs at another tickle answers his question. "In that case I need to shackle your ankles too." Smiling wickedly, he reveals another pair of shackles installed at the foot of the bed. With her legs secured as well, Ashleigh is left in a vulnerable position: her arms are fastened above her head, her legs parted wide. She is completely helpless. And Maker help her, she bloody loves it. Her panties are saturated with her juices, her clit almost aching for release.

She is creaming herself so profusely, that Anders catches a whiff of her arousal and chuckles. Nothing beats the smell of a woman in heat. Dipping his head low, he unexpectedly captures a hard nipple in his mouth. Simultaneously the feather teases swollen lips through wet fabric; she arches off the bed and shrieks, her shackled legs kicking furiously. Poor Anders is nearly knocked unconscious. Instead of slapping her again, the mage roughly grabs her by the chin. "Keep quiet and hold still," he growls warningly. "You don't want anyone else to see you in this position, do you?"

Ashleigh shakes her head. "No ser! I just... I can't stand to be tickled." A pleading look enters her gaze, a look that transmits her wish to be simply taken, for her yearning cunt to be ravished by his big cock.

Her begging eyes get the blood pumping back into the Grey Warden's loins, making him harder than he's ever been. Almost so hard that it hurts, almost so hard he feels like just positioning himself between those parted legs and fucking the defenceless girl's brains out. But what kind of pathetic torturer would he be if he were to give in so easily to a pair of pleading doe eyes? When a strategically placed tickle of the feather elicits another shriek, he reaches into his gauntlet and pulls out the small dagger concealed there. Ashleigh eyes him warily. "I'm not going to cut you," he murmurs reassuringly, softly pressing his lips to her trembling tummy. True to his word, Anders slices through the sides of her knickers instead. "But I _am_ going to gag you." And so he stuffs the soaked undergarment into her mouth. Shocked silence and fearfully staring eyes are the only answer she can give. Much to her shame, the soldier must admit that she likes the taste of her own cunt.

Lips curved into a pleased-as-punch smirk, the mage feasts his eyes on the small patch of blonde curls between her legs, and the pouting pink lips that peep out from under it. His finger becomes coated in cream to the knuckle just by running the tip between her labia; lightly grazing her clit causes a desperate humph and mad squirming. Oh, she is ever so ready to receive his attentions. He licks her sweet liquid from his finger and grins. Not that he's going to relieve her just yet. The feather traces slow circles around her left nipple, then the right, leaving her in a delightful shiver. A tear of frustration slips from her eye unbidden as Anders tickles her lips, soaking the plume with her juices. For a brief moment he torments her aching clit; she screams as well as she can and struggles frantically. Even with the padded silk lining, the metal bites into her skin.

"Now, now, my pet." His slim fingers trail down the outline of her waist and hip. "If you promise to be a good girl, I'll take care of you. Would you like that?" A teasing row of soft kisses down the inside of her thigh. He looks into her face, eyebrow cocked. "Well?"

Ashleigh nods so wildly her hair dances around her head. She would beg for him to touch her if she could. Her entire body feels unbearably hot and tense, every nerve standing on end. The area between her legs is the worst; she burns and aches, her cream flowing so abundantly a distinct wet spot is forming on the bed. Much to her relief, the feather is casually thrown away. It's become useless now that it's all wet.

Due to a dry throat, Anders leaves the girl to herself for a moment to pour himself a glass of wine. The glass hovers before his lips; isn't there a more fun way to get some moisture in him, right there on the bed? The private gives him a curious look as he approaches her, glass in hand. When a stream of cold wine hits her heated skin, she nearly swallows her knickers. The cool liquid pours down the valley between her breasts, down her taut stomach and finally into her throbbing slit. Of course, with his throat feeling as parched as an old nun's cunt, Anders is quick to catch the wine with his tongue. Mingled with the girl's juices, it tastes even better. His pliant organ dips into every nook and cranny to make sure he gets all of the delectable juices, but no matter how much he licks away, her dripping pussy keeps on producing more.

Ashleigh whimpers softly as the mage's tongue touches her clit and traces slow, lazy circles around it. Fully of their own accord, her hips make grinding motions to have him increase the pressure. To grant her the release she so desperately needs. Sadly for her, Anders plays the part of tormentor exquisitely well and dances a little further from her reach every time, keeping the stimulation gentle and slow. So the poor girl is brought to climax in a maddening way. Her legs begin trembling, her clit throbs under his touch. Almost there, almost... And then he abruptly pulls away from her.

The Warden laughs at her howl of distress. "Don't worry, my pet." Positioning himself between her legs, he makes a few adjustments to bring out his almost painfully engorged cock. "You want this, don't you?" Teasingly he taps it against her quivering mound. A desperate nod from the tortured soldier brings a wicked smile to his face. Briefly he dips his head to lick wine from her belly, drawing another series of sad mewls from her throat. So cute, so defenceless, and so utterly fuckable. Capturing her gaze with his own, the mage rubs the yearning opening with the tip of his erection. It pleases him to no end, the sight of her eyes rolling back into her head with every inch he pushes into her. Her moist, swollen flesh is tight, but wonderfully yielding. After a few moments, he is fully buried in the snug sheath. "Do you like having my cock in you?" A frantic nod. "Such a good girl." His hands reach out to caress down her ribcage, her waist, her hips. Suddenly he shoves into her hard, simultaneously pulling her down on his cock. A sound that most resembles a mixture between an anguished cry and a delighted moan issues forth from behind the wad of fabric in her mouth.

It hurts. But after a few hard thrusts, the pain fades away to be replaced with intense pleasure. Ashleigh tilts her hips to meet the Warden's vigorous strokes, purring deep within her throat at the onslaught of bliss on her senses. Then his fingers find her sensitive nub and she feels like she's dying in the most delicious way possible. Within seconds she comes; her entire body convulses as she rides the waves of climax coursing through her.

Anders smiles happily while he's fucking the soldier girl. She looks to be lost in her own little world of infinite pleasure. After her first orgasm by his hand, he allows her to recover. Still he continues pounding into her hard and without mercy; so hard, her wet cunt makes a sucking noise with every thrust. So wet, he feels a trickle of it flowing down his balls and splashing onto him whenever he is fully buried inside. Again and again he makes her come, closer and closer he is pushed to his own climax. Years of experience or no, the increasing tightness of her snatch has to do him in eventually. When it does, however, Ashleigh has lost count of how many mind-blowing orgasms those slim, trained fingers have rubbed her to.

Mage and soldier achieve their release almost simultaneously. Anders utters a raw cry as he pumps his victim's tight tunnel full of cum, his fingers digging painfully deep into the flesh of her hips. Ashleigh is too far gone to notice any potential pain; her mind is swimming in pleasure and all she can do is whimper blissfully. As soon as he's recovered, the Warden pulls out and moves to give the girl a drink. Carefully he pulls the gag from between her parted lips. "Here."

A look of gratitude in her wide brown eyes, Ashleigh drinks greedily from the water he offers to her. Her wrists are sore, and so are her ankles. "If you release me, I can hold the glass myself." The look of gratitude quickly changes into one of adoration. "That was amazing, Anders. Now, please take these shackles off me." Hungrily she eyes his still clad form, eager to rip those robes off his body.

"No." With a wide, almost evil grin Anders conjures another feather. The old Grey Warden stamina is still alive and kicking. Laughingly, he says: "What makes you think I'm done with you?"


End file.
